by GR Griffin
The human told them their name was Fleck and that it was nice to meet them.
After some brief reluctance, Sam took Fleck’s hand and shook it. “It’s… nice to meet you too, Fleck.”
The child looked around, finding themself in a single-room cabin. The room they were in was the only one, yet it was spacious enough to hold everything. A stone fireplace took up the far wall, opposite the front door. A double bed, thick with blankets, stood against the left-hand wall. There was a table and two chairs in the corner, opposite an oven that has seen heavy use, and yet looked as clean as day one. Out the open door, Fleck made out the ripples of a nearby river, the same one they were most likely fished out of. Fleck asked where they were.
“You’re in our house, all the way up here in the Outerworld.” The male mummy pointed a bandage-wrapped finger at his chest. “The name’s Sam.” He nodded to the other mummy. “This here’s my wife, Rita.”
“Sam an’ Rita, the folks used to call us.” Rita said, adding a little extra spice to her rustic accent. “Gotta nice ring to it, if you ask me. You feeling alright, hon’?”
Fleck answered that they felt a little dizzy, followed by a friendly greeting aimed toward Rita. Fleck extended their hand and approached her for a handshake, but as they took their first step, they stumbled and fell against the foot of the double bed. Their head felt as light as air and an irritating buzz rose in the ears.
While Sam supported the human, Rita shot across the cabin to a stool budged in the corner. “Don’t exert yourself,” Rita urged as she grabbed the stool, set it down by the human, and helped Sam ease them down onto it. “Sit and rest, regain your strength.”
As the heaviness returned to their skull and the ringing subsided by a few decibels, Fleck asked what happened, and how they ended up where they were, in their house.
Sam opened a hatch from the cupboard, grabbed a dry towel and wrapped it around Fleck’s shoulders. He explained, “I found you driftin’ downstream while I was out doing some fishing.”
Rita shook her covered head, swinging her curls off her shoulders. “Even though there’s absolutely no fish to catch,” she said.
“Hey, you try keeping up the same hobby for fifty years. Besides, fishing is easy enough, you throw the hook out and then enjoy the quiet time while you wait for the line to tug, which never happens in these parts. Until now.” He stretches his hand out in front of him, visualising the scene. Water dripped downwards from his bandaged appendage. “I’m sittin’ there, enjoying some cider and a sandwich, when suddenly the line snags. At first, I thought it might’ve snagged on a loose rock or something. But then I look down and see you down there, little ‘un, your sleeve caught on the hook. I immediately dove down there and pulled you out of the water myself – didn’t know you were a human until I got you into the house.”
After hearing Sam’s story, Fleck thanked him for saving their life.
Sam gently patted Fleck on the back. “Ah, it was nothin’, kiddo.”
Despite being more drowned than a drowned rat, Fleck’s mouth felt like two pieces of sandpaper scraping together. They grunted that they were super thirsty.
“I’ll go get you some water, there’s plenty.” Rita walked over to the second cupboard beside the stove, pulled it open and retrieved a clay jug. “Be right back.” And she walked out the door.
Sam said, “Well, while you’re here, you better—”
“Hide!” Rita barged back in.
Sam shot up. “Hide?” he repeated.
Rita pointed at the door with her free hand. “Soldiers! The Emperor’s soldiers! Lots of them. Coming this way, searching the river.”
Soldiers? Fleck jumped from their stool and tried to run on legs that failed them the second they took their weight. Luckily, Sam was there to catch the child before they could collapse.
“Don’t panic, little ‘un. We won’t let them take you away,” Sam assured. “Now, let’s find you a place to hide.” Sam scanned the vicinity of his house and laid his glowing eyes on the bed. “Of course.” While escorting the shaking human around the bed, Sam addressed his wife – talking in a hushed tone. “Rita, mop the floor, pretend that you’re cleanin’. Don’t leave any traces.”
As instructed, Rita took the wet towel lying in the middle of the room and used it to soak up the puddles. “And you’ve left your fishing rod out by the river.”
“I know, I know, I’ll sort it out,” Sam said while he helped Fleck down onto their belly. He turned to the child and whispered, “Crawl under there and be as quiet as possible. We’ll handle this.”
Fleck nodded their head and pulled up the covers; the bedsheets were wide enough that the edges touched the floor. Fleck crawled under the mattress to a dark world of dust, white fluff and threads – all of which clung to their damp clothes. Under the bed, the edges of the sheets burned bright. The air tasted stale in Fleck’s dehydrated mouth. With no vision of the outside world, all they had to go on was what they could hear.
The patter of fast steps against wood moved all around. Two sets, Sam an’ Rita’s, and a whole load of floor scrubbing. The lady mummy had done away with the towel and was now using a humble mop, making it appear that she was partaking in some ordinary housework. She grabbed the stool and set it down in its original place in the corner. The two sets of footsteps became one as someone, possibly Sam, stormed out to retrieve the fishing rod.
There was the tiniest gap between the floor and the cover, Fleck edged forward and peeked out through the corner of their eye. They could make out the floor – both inside and out – the slightest sight of water, and a pair of work boots. The boots walked over to the river, stopped, and then turned and headed back toward the door.
Sam was about two steps away from the cabin, standing upon the deck, when someone shouted out, “Excuse me.”
The pair of brown boots came to a halt, then turned around. “Oh, good afternoon, sir,” Sam greeted with his recognisable twang. “Haven’t seen any Monster Military ‘round these parts in a long time. Starting routine patrols now?”
Shuffling metal drew closer. “No. We’re on important business, as ordered by his highness, Emperor Zeus himself. I take it you’ve been around this river as of recent.”
Fleck breathed as slowly as possible, and dared not to budge a muscle. Some of the dust fluttered around, tickling their nose and irritating the throat. Fleck only breathed slower to combat the need to cough.
“What makes you suggest that?” Sam asked.
“For starters, I couldn’t help but notice the fishing rod you got there.” The shuffling metal stopped. A pair of silver greaves stomped into view on the deck. “Made it yourself?”
“Yes sir, I did.” Sam stuck the rod end into the ground and leaned on it. It was essentially a stick with a piece of string tied at the end. “Built it from scratch.”
“I didn’t think any fish existed in these parts.”
“They don’t. I’m just runnin’ out of pastimes.” Followed by a hearty chuckle.
Rita continued to scour the premises with her mop, scrubbing vigorously. She created the illusion that she was a busy, busy woman.
“I don’t suppose one of these untouched pastimes happens to be swimming, by any chance? You look a little wet around the wrappings.”
Around the river, many dragging, silver figures marched with the direction of the flow. An entire squadron of armed soldiers, all hunting for one target, and Fleck was that target. Fleck already knew, deep down, that their determination would not pull them out of this mess, but they tried anyway. Like they always say: fourth time’s the charm. After closing their eyes and reaching into their soul, they reopened them to find themself at the beginning of their new adventure, with regained energy and renewed spirit. They felt like they were ready for anything.
“I’m going to have to ask you some questions.”
The guard’s commanding voice dragged Fleck back to their hiding spot under the bed in a cabin on a floating island. Suddenly,
they felt weak once again.
“What kind of questions?” Sam asked.
“Castle Highkeep has recently experienced a… prison break. A very dangerous convict has escaped, last spotted falling into the moat. We have reason to believe that their body may’ve washed up in these parts. Have you seen anyone who looked odd?”
“That depends. What does this convict look like?”
“About this high; longish brown hair; pale skin; blank features; wearing a striped shirt.”
The bandage-wrapped husband paused for a few moments, took a few paces around the decking, and then answered, “You know, I think I might’ve seen who you were talkin’ about. I was out fishin’ a little while back when I spotted the creepiest lookin’ thing floatin’ down the river. It startled me so hard that I tumbled in myself.”
“Can you describe this creepy looking thing to me?”
“It’s was too blurry to tell; it was pretty deep down to get a good look at it. I think it looked blue… that’s all I can say. I was so shocked that I rushed back home to tell my wife, and she gets on my back that I trailed water into the house. But, anyway, if that was who you were looking for, then they’ll be somewhere further down the river by now.”
There was a break in the conversation as the soldier of the Monster Military took a step closer to the entrance. Fleck pushed themself away from the gap. They wished that the guard would just leave already. He should have everything that he needed to come to the conclusion that the human target was not here, and yet he remained.
“I have the right,” the guard said, “as granted by my emperor, to enter any premises I see fit until I am satisfied with my investigation. Mind if I take a little look inside?”
Sam mumbled something, followed by a quick step aside. “No, of course not.”
A few more heavy knocks vibrated through the flooring as the guard stepped inside. Rita stopped. Only one pair of footsteps became relevant now.
The guard apologised, “Sorry for stepping on your nice, clean floor.”
“It’s okay,” Rita responded, “that’s what it’s used for.”
Fleck froze as something snagged at their brain. Sorry for stepping on your nice, clean floor. Why did that phrase sound so familiar? They could have sworn that they had heard it before, in that exact same tone. But where exactly?
Fleck remembered, and was struck with a serious notion that they were not safe where they were.
* * *
The guard treaded as lightly as he could manage in his heavy armour. Not much to see when your daily life consists of maintaining an elaborate garrison. The two monsters kept their glowing gazes on him as he stepped around the bed. The shack had all the essentials: a bed, an oven, and fireplace. On the outside, there was a privy on one side and a patch of farmland on the other, overflowing with enough crops to feed five times the amount of the homeowners.
He crossed to the other side of the bed. Not much to see there except the rest of the shiny floor and a bedside table. The guard glanced across the room, seeing his colleagues continue to comb the river, searching for the one thing that might actually make his lord and master crack a grin. If he did not pick up the pace, he would get left behind.
The guard turned and marched for the exit. “Thank you for your compliance.”
“No problem,” Sam said from the doorway. “Have a nice day, sir.”
The guard almost reached the door when, all of a sudden, he stopped, having spotted something out-of-place. “Wait.” He craned his head to the left, catching sight of the lone stool bunched in the corner. “You clean your chairs as well, madam?”
“Excuse me?” Rita asked.
The guard pointed to the stool. “That stool is wet. Looks like someone sat on it.”
“Oh, yes, that was me,” Sam said quickly. “I was so shocked that I needed to sit down for a bit and get my heart under control.”
The monster in the silver armour examined the stool closer. The patch of dampness on the wood was already starting to soak up, but the size was still distinguishable. There was no way that the monster mummy could have made that patch, it was too small. Now, if something smaller had sat on it, something like a child, like the human they were hunting, then that would make sense.
He turned back to the cabin interior, and his eyes drifted straight to the bed. Enclosed all around with blankets. The number one hiding spot for any frightened child has and forever shall be, under the bed. He turned and stepped closer toward it, tingling with anticipation. Could this be it?
Sam an’ Rita watched in silence. Too tense to act. Sam tightened his grip around the fishing rod. Rita kept her eyes locked on the guard; outwardly, calm, but inwardly, wracked with pressure.
The guard knelt down and could feel the presence of a human child shaking beneath the mattress. He slid his metallic fingers under the sheet, wrapped each finger around it individually, pulled the cover up and found… nothing.
The guard grumbled. No human. No human soul. None of this so-called ‘determination’. Not even a speck of dust.
“You are thorough indeed, madam,” the guard grumbled some more, facing the wife mummy.
Rita placed one hand against her hip. “I… do what I can.”
Standing up, the guard faced the outside world again. Unfortunately for him, his entourage had continued without him. Jogging in full, heavy armour was not easy or pleasant by any means. “Thanks again for your patience,” he rambled as he rushed out the door. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Rita went to Sam’s side as he waved at the sprinting guard. “Hope you catch who you’re looking for.”
The two mummies waited until the emperor’s guards were a long way in the distance before going back inside and closing the door behind themselves, confident that no Monster Military eyes were present. They both breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“Fleck?” Sam whispered. “Fleck? Are you still here, little ‘un?”
“The guards have gone,” Rita affirmed. “You can come out now.”
Slowly and silently, one of the hatches of the cupboard crept ajar. Tiny fingers gripped the sides. A head with soaking, brown hair peaked out. Fleck stepped out on wobbly legs. White dust was caked all over their face, clothes, hands and legs.
Rita cocked her head to the side. “Looks like we’re going to need more water. Still thirsty, hon’?”
Fleck smiled and nodded.
Chapter 8: Fish out of Water
Unknown to Alphys, there was another kink in the teleporter that she did not consider, and that was speed. The time in which it took for one teleported individual to reach their destination differed from person to person. Despite being the third one to enter, Undyne was the first to exit, appearing in a flash of electricity.
One moment, Undyne was in the basement, chasing Alphys and Papyrus through the teleporter, the next, she was on a beach, gazing out at a clear sea.
“Huh? What happened?” Undyne asked herself as she turned up and down the length of the coastline, which carried on for miles in both directions. Her friends were nowhere in sight. In fact, no one was in sight. “Alphys?” she called out, confused. “Papyrus? Where are you guys?”
She glanced down at her body, remembering what her girlfriend said about jigsaws, fearing that she might have become a mishmash of pieces. Her hands came first, appearing in the right place, on the ends of her wrists. Head, firmly upright on shoulders. Legs, on the right way. She breathed easy, the jigsaw had been assembled properly.
Undyne turned around, the scene made her gasp in awe. Giant islands hovered in the distance, past a collection of palm trees from a nearby jungle. To the left, hilly fields of green. The one in the centre, looming higher above, was topped with the familiar shape of a castle. Undyne could only make out the tops of jagged trees from the island to the right of that one. Undyne had not spent long on the surface, but even she could tell that she was not on Earth anymore.
The former commander tasted the air, detecting a serious lack
of sea salt, and knew right then that something was amiss. The beach had sand the colour of sand, and waters of blue, and tides of silver and white, and yet it was not a beach. Undyne knew what a beach looked, felt, sounded, and tasted like – she has seen one every day since leaving the Underground – but this one had nothing of what made a beach a real beach. She took a few steps along the coast to get her bearings. It was not until her fourth step did she realise how brittle the sand sounded, every step crunching like gravel. She stopped, knelt down, and grabbed a handful – rubbing the grains between her fingers.
“Strange…” Uncomfortably rough sand seeped through her digits. “It feels like… sawdust.”
Next, she approached the sea. The gentle tide sloshed around her ankles. She cupped a handful of water, feelings its coolness against her palms, took a sip and swigged it around her mouth. This seawater was not seawater at all, there was not a hint of salt within. It was fresh and clean, and quite refreshing.
Undyne turned back to the scene beyond. “Where am I?” she wondered. “Is this really the land from that book?”
A string of black smoke trailed high above, coming from somewhere within the jungle. Smoke meant fire. Either something bad was going down or there had to be someone out there, someone who could answer the questions preying on her mind. Undyne walked off the beach of substitute sand and drinkable seawater, and onto a dirt road between the coast and the trees. She walked for a way until they reached a road that broke off into the jungle, accompanied by a sign.
Large and decorative – and accompanied by an arrow below, pointing up the path – the sign had written on it in fancy handwriting:
Bjornliege Manor, home of Lord Grill.
Below that sign was a smaller one pointing in the opposite direction; written below it:
That’s the sea. You can see it, *Si?
*(I think that’s French for ‘yes’)